In Pharmaca Veritas
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Set in an AU version of the dinner party that happens in 3.01 and a non-canon just after, so with mild spoilers for that event.
1. Chapter 1

**What are you doing here? Go and read _That Old Familiar Feeling_ by Genevievey instead. It's much better.**

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The Dinner Party

Larry Grey put the pill into the cocktail and swirled the glass to dissolve it. _Oh, this is going to be fun. I'll teach that jumped up little chauffeur_, he thought. He took the drugged glass and his own and turned to find Tom Branson.

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Anthony was trying to talk to Isobel Crawley who was a perfectly nice woman, high-minded and all that. Her heart was in the right place, and he thoroughly approved of her charitable work, he really did. But right now he couldn't concentrate on what she was saying because Edith, beautiful Edith, was in the room. She was welcoming guests with a lightly worn grace, doing her duty as a daughter of the House, but with a sweet sincerity that made him admire her all the more. Whoever managed to win her would win not only the loveliest woman in the world but a hostess in a million to boot. _And it won't be you, you old idiot_, he thought_. You are beyond all that._

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_._

Edith finished welcoming the last of the guests and hastened over to Isobel and Anthony, yet she couldn't just butt in. Finding the first excuse she could she noticed that Anthony did not yet have a drink, and there were no footmen anywhere. But Larry Grey was walking past her with two drinks.

"Larry! You're not drinking both of those, I hope?! You won't mind if I take one?" Not waiting for an answer, Edith took the glass that Larry wasn't drinking.

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"Sir Anthony, would you care for a cocktail?" she smiled.

"Lady Edith, how kind. Thank you." Anthony replied, not letting his face betray how glad he was that she was near.

"How is your arm these days, Sir Anthony?" enquired Isobel, politely.

"The arm's dead, worse luck; the shoulder still complains now and then but I can't moan, not really."

Edith continued for him. "He copes amazingly well. He won't let me do a thing for him."

"Will we see you at Matthew and Mary's wedding?"

Anthony looked uncertainly at both women.

"Yes, of course" said Edith.

"If you really want me."

"I do. I really do."

He couldn't help it. She'd said it so definitely and yet with a charming shyness, glancing down at her glass. He positively beamed at her.

"You're very kind." To stop himself gazing at her like a lovesick puppy, he drained his glass. _Dutch courage_, he thought. _And I'll probably need more than that to get through this evening._

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Edith was thrilled to find that she'd been placed next to Sir Anthony at dinner. _He_ was scared stiff. To think of her lovely soft brown eyes on him all evening. How would he cope? How was he going to avoid making a complete and utter fool of himself, and embarrass this gorgeous girl? But strangely he found that, by the middle of the hors d'oeuvres, he was relaxing and really rather enjoying himself. He'd asked all about what she was doing, both in relation to, and away from, the upcoming Crawley nuptials. He'd told her a couple of self-deprecating stories of his experiences travelling around Europe.

"And this poor chap, bald as a coot, said 'Mein Herr...Mein Herr...I've lost Mein Herr!"* And she'd actually laughed! At his rather weak jokes and feeble anecdotes! It was wonderful! He didn't _forget_ to turn to talk to the person on his other side (who happened to be the Dowager) after the fish course, as manners dictated he should. He just didn't want to.

He'd played by the rules all his life and where had it got him? To be considered by everyone as an honourable, crippled, boring old codger. _Just this once_ he was going to do what _he_ wanted. He felt unaccountably happy and carefree, spending a delicious evening with the most incredibly beautiful woman who made his heart sing. He knew he was most likely looking and sounding ridiculous, but she made him feel quite breathless with love, and he found he didn't care.

Edith was surprised and delighted. It seemed that she could bring Sir Anthony out of himself, and he was absolutely charming when he was a bit more relaxed and confident. She had been so blissfully happy gazing into his bright blue eyes like lapis lazuli, and basking in his smile. Oh she did love it when he smiled. She loved to think that she could make him smile. She thought he was more handsome with each passing minute. And he hadn't even turned during dinner but talked to her all the time! She felt both hollow and utterly fulfilled at the same time. _If only this evening didn't have to end and I could sit here with you forever._

During a very short pause in their conversation, when Anthony was just looking at Edith with an immense love in his eyes that he didn't bother to disguise, Violet put her hand on his arm.

"What are you planning for your 50th birthday celebrations, Sir Anthony? Obviously it can't be anything too tiring or physical at your age, and with your arm in that condition."

Anthony was stunned at the viciousness of her sudden warning attack. He looked back at Edith and saw the shock in her eyes. She was embarrassed for him, and ashamed at her grandmother's rudeness. Between the two of them it almost…almost…jolted him back to his senses. But a little devil in his head said _"Why? Why listen to the Dowager? Why not listen to the woman you love? Why not listen to your heart?"_

Anthony turned back to Violet and said "I'm so sorry, Lady Grantham, I'm not quite with you. I am still a year or two away from my 50th birthday, and I am still as active and healthy as I ever was, despite the arm. And, may I say, enjoying myself as much as ever." His voice trailed off as his eyes were drawn back to Edith, adoringly.

But Violet would not let it rest there. "Do you believe, Sir Anthony, that enjoying oneself at your age is really becoming?"

Poor Anthony lost the last shreds of his drugged self control at this goading.

"Why not? You do."

"I beg your pardon?" stuttered Violet.

"You please yourself in all your own dealings; and, I understand, in a lot of other people's business as well, whether they believe your opinions are in their best interests or not."

"I've not been spoken to like this since…"

"Since your poor late lamented husband died, I suspect, Lady Grantham. I always had a lot of sympathy for the old Lord Grantham."

"Well _really_!"

"Now, Sir Anthony, I hardly think…" Robert began, meandering (rather than leaping) to his mother's defence.

"That is common knowledge, Lord Grantham" said Anthony. "Rumour has it that you don't think at all if you can possibly help it."

Despite this being accurate and funny, Edith now knew that there was something seriously wrong.

"How dare you, Sir?!" started Robert.

But Anthony continued "And Lady Mary has inherited all the best traits of her father and grandmother, but with none of the manners. I don't know Lady Sybil very well but she married, for love, a man not considered her equal, and I admire and respect them both for that. In fact, of all the Crawleys I know there is one amongst you who is sweet-natured and kind, gentle in spirit and demeanour, forgiving and lovely in character, and ravishingly beautiful – Lady Edith." He addressed all of this directly to her. He took her hand, kissed it passionately, then dropped to one knee beside her chair.

"Lady Edith, I am an old fool ridiculously in love with you. I dare not hope for your affection but I know I cannot live a full life without it. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Edith started to speak but was interrupted by her father.

"Edith, I forbid you to answer that man!"

"Much though I like him, your father is exhibiting his outstanding ability to be a first class ass once again. You are of age, Lady Edith. You can and may answer anyway you like, if you so wish."

"Sir Anthony, I will give you my answer tomorrow when you are sober, and if you still wish to ask me."

Anthony was horrified. "Lady Edith, I assure you I am not inebriated in the least. Truly! I have drunk only one cocktail and a glass of wine all evening."

The discrepancy between this and Sir Anthony's odd behaviour caused Edith to think back over the night's events.

"Yes, that is true. The wine you had with the meal, and the cocktail I got from…Larry…"

Edith turned to look at Larry Grey, followed by the rest of the table. He found himself under the gaze of everyone present.

"Don't blame me! I meant it for the chauffeur. But you took it and gave it to him!"

"What?!" said Edith, Larry's father, and Tom Branson all at once.

"Poor silly old buffer! Can't you take a joke?" whined Larry.

Grey Senior apologised to Sir Anthony. Robert and Violet calmed down, although in Violet's case not by much. Robert suggested that Edith accompany Sir Anthony outside for some fresh air while waiting for his car to take him home. Since Larry had admitted to spiking his drink, Anthony had begun to feel rather odd and tired. Edith was beside herself with remorse and frightened to death that Anthony wouldn't want anything to do with the Crawleys, or her, ever again.

"Sir Anthony, please believe me, I didn't know Larry had put something in that glass."

"Of course you didn't, you sweet girl."

"Do call in a day or two when you feel more yourself. Please."

He stopped walking and took her hand.

"I shan't change my mind about my proposal."

Edith smiled a hurt, hopeful little smile, touched that he rightly guessed that was what was worrying her. "I do hope you won't."

"Even if I am a stupid old fool on whom a cruel joke has been practiced."

"You are nothing of the kind."

She so wanted to prove to him that she didn't think he was an old fool, that to her he was the most wonderful man in the world, she laid her hand on his arm, and when he bent down to her, she kissed his cheek.

At that moment, Anthony felt he was in danger of feeling happily drugged for the rest of his life.

"I adore you…" he breathed unable to stop himself reaching towards her. And, oh God, she reached for him…

At that very moment the car arrived. With what little gallantry he still had left, Anthony stepped back, back from the cliff edge over which he would surely have fallen.

Edith spoke a few words to his chauffeur about driving slowly with no sudden movements, promised Anthony that she would phone to Locksley so they knew what had happened, and bade him a gentle, tender goodnight. Suddenly he was being driven away from her, the centre of his universe, the source of all lovely things in his life.

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* Actually this is one of Gerard Hoffnung's and I happily acknowledge the fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Words and Truth

It was well into the afternoon of the next day, when Anthony's headache was just showing signs of possibly wearing off sometime that decade, when he began to remember some of the things he'd said the previous night.

_Oh God, did I really accuse Lady Grantham of that?!_

_No! I can't have called Robert that, could I?!_

_Lady Mary will have my guts for garters when she hears about that. Perhaps no one will tell her. But that's the least of my worries._

_What I really care about is whether Lady Edith can ever forgive me for saying those things about her relatives. I'm an ass!_

The day after he wrote grovellingly apologetic notes to Lord and Lady Grantham, the Dowager, and Lady Edith. The Dowager replied curtly accepting his apology, but mentioning that Larry Grey had _not_ written and that was far worse. Lady Grantham wrote with great care and formality, but kindly, accepting his apology and offering her own on behalf of all the family for what happened. Edith's letter was full of…he could only describe it as _nervous hope_.

_I know you have written to my parents and my grandmother. Despite the plain fact that truly nothing was your fault that night, I know you will have taken back the words you addressed to them which you uttered only under the influence of Larry Grey's villainy. In your letter to me you do not withdraw your words concerning your feelings for me, and I hope you never will._

He replied to Lady Edith immediately asking her to join him for luncheon the next day, and Edith replied to him within the hour to accept.

As one o'clock drew near, Anthony became more and more nervous. He knew for a fact that Lady Edith would not reprove him openly; she was just too kind and wonderful for that. What he feared was seeing disappointment in her eyes. If she thought that he had let her down over the Larry Grey affair, he knew that knowledge would haunt him. And he had to convince her that despite everything, he was not about to ruin her life by pressing his suit. He knew they could find other topics of conversation over the meal, but equally that they would have to clear the air about this first, and in doing so decide the tenor of their friendship forever afterwards.

But when she arrived, driving herself of course, her only concern seemed to be that _he_ wasn't too disappointed in _her_ or the House of Grantham. He'd been a guest at Downton and yet this horrible thing had happened to him whilst in their care. Worse still, she herself had given him the drugged drink, albeit unknowingly. She had worried about it, and what he thought about her and her family ever since, she said.

"It wasn't as though the things you said weren't true. They were all things that everyone thinks but no one dares say, especially to Granny!"

"That is probably why they stung so" he observed sadly. "I fear I will never have your father's friendship or approval ever again."

"Papa explodes at first, when he is contradicted; I think he does it on principle. But then he considers things in his own good time, and he is perfectly able and happy to admit he's wrong when he thinks it is justified. He's not as proud as people think."

"What you have just said disproves what I stated as my opinion of him. And I am very glad to be disproved."

"But your opinion is true as far as his first reactions are concerned, and he doesn't usually allow many people to get past those."

"Lady Edith, please stop trying to make excuses and justifications for all the horrible things I said about your family. Have some coffee, and let us forget it ever happened; please?"

But in a much quieter voice, Edith said "What about the things you said to me? Do you wish to distance yourself from those?"

That took him aback. It was the question he'd most dreaded her asking, and had not expected her to ask so directly.

"I had hoped you'd forgotten about that. It was the most embarrassing part of my behaviour that evening."

"Forget? How could I? Those things were the most wonderful that anyone had ever said to me, in public or in private. I will never forget them, or how you made me feel."

_Oh God_ he thought _I've hurt her, and I will have to hurt her further._

"I apologise, Lady Edith, if I have...misled you. I really don't understand how you could be moved by words of infatuation addressed to you by a drugged cripple old enough to be your father. No, those words more than any other said that night must be forgotten even if you cannot forgive me for them."

She looked at him tearfully. "You told me you loved me, that you were in love with me."

He winced. She continued "Are you telling me that that isn't true, that you were lying?"

He could see her heart breaking in her eyes; she was trying so hard and so bravely not to show it. But surely it was just not possible that she had feelings for him. He was imagining it, because it was what he wanted to see.

"You most assuredly would be relieved to hear it, if it were. I must have been an excruciating embarrassment to you."

Her control was breaking down, and his resolve with it. "You told me you wouldn't change your mind about proposing to me. And now you have."

"It isn't that. But I won't let you waste yourself, or your life, on me."

"You also said, rightly, that I was of age and able to answer as I pleased. Are you so convinced you know what is in my best interests, just like Granny, that I should not be allowed a say in it?"

Anthony was brought up short again. Was he just as guilty of making decisions for others as Lady Grantham? Was he denying Edith a say in her own future, a future he himself had offered to her, and had truly meant even though he'd only had the courage to offer it because he was under the influence? He couldn't let her think he'd lied. He couldn't make this decision for her.

"I told you I thought you were the most perfect woman on God's earth, that I was madly in love with you, and wanted you for my wife. I said those things would stand just as much when I was back to normal. All those things were, and are, true."

"Anthony…" she whispered, her breath coming in gasps. She didn't know whether to hope or despair.

"You know I would not have said any of them if I'd been myself, because I don't think they should have been said. Even if you are flattered by them now, I fear that if you act on them, you will regret your actions in three, five, or ten years' time. But I will trust your own judgement. I asked you to marry me. I am not the sort of man who commits breach of promise of marriage, Edith." He knelt down on one knee, not quite believing what he was doing.

"I love you, Edith. Despite all my misgivings, will you make me the happiest of men, and take me for your husband?"

"I will" Edith replied solemnly, holding back her irresistible urge to throw herself at him. He needed to know this; he'd said as much and she would start as honestly as she meant to go on.

"I don't want you to think I haven't thought about this very seriously. I have considered it from all angles, and I have to confess I have been longing for it since 1914 when your age wasn't a problem for anyone, even for you as I recall. I have longed for it even more so since you came home wounded. I know there will be difficulties and frustrations but I so admire you for how you cope, and I know you can achieve even more. I would be proud to be yours and help any way I can, even if you insist that is only by standing with you while you battle it out alone. I know it won't all be cakes and ale, Anthony, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I want to be a part of your fight. I want to be at your side. I love you."

Anthony couldn't stop the tears that had been forcing their way to the surface as she spoke. He didn't want to stop himself taking her hand and kissing it just as passionately as he had at the Downton dinner table. He rose to his feet, gently bringing her with him and pulling her willingly to him.

"My darling Edith. I love you so."

With more awkwardness than he could overcome sober and undrugged, he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers.

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**_Thank you for reading this little bit of fluff. Reviews are always very welcome._**


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